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It’s dark and we can’t see each other, which somehow makes it easier to talk.
“For what exactly?” He’s apologized plenty enough, but as far as I’m concerned, they’re all empty.
“Copper Blues.”
Ahh. I’ve been waiting for him to mention that night, and I’m surprised that it’s taken him this long. I don’t know what to say, so I don’t say anything.
The silence drags on for a few minutes, and I think we’re done talking when he speaks again.
“Are you seeing him?”
Now there’s the question. Do I answer him, or do I leave him to think whatever he’s thinking? I’ve filed for divorce, so it’s none of his business.
“And if I was?”
I clench my eyes at the strangled sound wrenched from his throat. What he’s feeling now is only a small measure of what I felt.
“I’d beg you not to…It’s my fault, I know. But I’d still beg.” Where has that self-confident, take-charge man I know gone?
I’m being cruel, and by nature I’m not a cruel person, so I concede defeat.
“Christian.”
“What?”
“I’m surprised you didn’t recognize him. From Uni. And we were just catching up.”
I hear his shaky breath that follows his soft okay, and it doesn’t make me feel better. I should have kept him believing that I was living it up with other men. It’s what he deserves.
“Please, Lucas. I’m tired. I want to sleep.”
“Sweet dreams,” he murmurs, his voice sounding much more relieved than I’d want it to.
***
When I wake up, Lizzy’s still fast asleep, and Lucas is nowhere to be seen. I stumble up the stairs, feeling like I’ve been hit by a car. It’s already hot, so I change into shorts and a t-shirt, shoving my feet into flip-flops.
I find Lucas in the garage, balancing on an overturned bucket while rummaging around on one of the shelves we put up for storage.
“What are you doing?”
He startles, grabbing the shelf when the bucket wobbles.
“Fuck,” he breathes. “Make some noise next time.”
“Sorry.” Not sorry.
He goes back to rummaging. “Remember those grilling baskets we bought a couple of years ago?” Ah, our last camping trip that turned out more glamping than camping. “I’m sure we stored them around here somewhere.”
“It’s in a box over there,” I say, pointing to the other side of the garage, where I stored them.
His grin is triumphant when he pulls them out. “I got a fire going. You up for some bacon, eggs, and grilled cheese?”
“Are you offering to feed us?”
He puffs out his chest. “I might not be much good in front of a stove, but—”
“Anybody home?” I whirl at the sound of Eric’s voice, and by the time he’s in the kitchen, I have my arms around him, squeezing him tight.
